


You Whispered Words Forbidden To See If I've Been Listening (Well, Now I'm Listening)

by lisachan



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan
Summary: This was supposed to be a regular day. A normal day. But upon arriving at Neverland Carl finds something that changes everything forever.
Relationships: Carl Grimes/Negan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: COW-T - the Clash Of the Writing Titans





	You Whispered Words Forbidden To See If I've Been Listening (Well, Now I'm Listening)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I'll Drive You To Places You'll Never Forget](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18113021) by [lisachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan). 



> THIS THING IS STILL ALIVE, BITCHES!

Carl can already hear the kids crying almost one full minute before he gets to Neverland. In the eerie silence of the plain, that cry echoes like an alarm, and it’s worrying, both for what it could mean and for what it could attract. He frowns, gesturing Nathan, Emily and Parker to wait for a second as he walks up to the front of the gate to try and see what’s going on.

He whistles, which would usually be enough for the kids to open the door. This time, though, it doesn’t happen, which is suspicious.

“Kids!” he calls then. He registers only vaguely the exclamations of surprise coming by his companions behind him. He never calls out loud for the kids, he doesn’t want to risk anyone passing by unseen and understand that there are only children on the other side of this gate. And yet, this time he must, because no one’s coming.

As soon as he says the word, a little face shows up at the lookout post at the top of the gate. It’s Cecily, and she’s sobbing so hard she can’t contain the sounds. “Carl!” she yells.

Carl still doesn’t know what happened, and he can already sense there it be something huge. His kids wouldn’t be wailing like this for something irrelevant – he trained them better than this.

“Cecily, baby, open up this gate and let us in,” he says urgently.

She nods quickly, unable to stop crying. She wipes a mess of tears and snot off her face and flips the lever that makes the gate open. As soon as she does that, Carl mounts back onto his bike and drives it through, quickly followed by the others.

The sight waiting for him on the other side of the gate is a horror scene, and Carl gasps, pointing his feet on the ground to keep the bike upright after he turns the engine off. There’s blood on the dusty ground, there’s a tiny body lying close to the orchard and there’s a whole host of kids gathered around it.

Carl swallows and gets off his bike. He can’t believe this is happening. This place was supposed to be safe. These kids were supposed to survive within its walls. All of them. He always factored in the possibility that some of them could die outside, while scavenging for supplies or clearing the premises of walkers, but not in here. Not in here.

He moves towards the little body as though mesmerized. He hears everything – the children crying harder, some of them moving away from the body and toward him, clinging to his legs and shirt, Nathan calling him, Emily telling him to let him go – but he feels nothing. There’s only dread spreading out inside him, that’s the only feeling he can acknowledge.

Then he sees it. A flash of silver-white hair. White skin, only barely tanned. Lithe limbs, a delicate neck. His chest is full of holes, Carl can see them through his ripped t-shirt. 

The biggest hole, though, is in his right eye. And that’s what makes Carl fall on his ass on the ground. “Fuck…” he says.

The little dead one is Gabriel. His responsible little bee. His workaholic little bee. He could stay up for hours late at night to clean the tomatoes and make sure they were all perfect, that there were no parasites, that there were enough to feed the community and pay tribute. He had the perfect way to clean soiled sheets, he had a secret he would tell no one, not even him. If questioned, he always answered with a smirk, “If I tell you how it’s done,” he joked, “Then you won’t need me anymore”. Now no one’s gonna get those sheets as clean ever again. No one’s gonna be able to check those tomatoes with the same attention. And who will smile like Gabriel, who will laugh like him? Who will cry, who will ever be able to replace the sound of his voice?

“Carl,” the sniffling boy kneeling next to him tugs at his shirt, again and again, “Carl, please, listen.”

Carl turns to the side to focus on Montoya. His little chief bee. I’m sorry, little one, I couldn’t protect you.

“What happened here?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you,” Montoya sobs, but keeps tugging at him, “But please, you’ve gotta put him to sleep first.”

Carl doesn’t immediately understand what Montoya means by that. It’s only when the cry of the children starts to subside that he is finally able to hear the distant whistling of a strained breath.

He turns back towards Gabriel, horrified. The little boy’s chest moves up and down, heart-wrenchingly slowly. His lips are motionless and so is the rest of him, but that little chest, that’s still moving.

Carl knows too much of life and death now to delude himself into believing that might be a reason to hope. Apparently, so does Montoya.

He moves back on his knees, getting closer to the body. Gabriel stares at the sky with the only eye he’s got left. Carl wonders if he sees it, that beautiful blue slate, borderless, so painfully clear. How shitty it must be to die on such a beautiful day.

“Are you gonna put him to sleep?” Montoya asks, bawling his eyes out, “Are you? He’s in pain. He’s in pain, isn’t he? Can you put him to sleep, Carl?”

And Carl doesn’t want to, he feels like dying at the mere thought. That’s one thing he promised himself he would not do again – put a bullet in the head of a loved one to make sure they stopped suffering. To make sure they didn’t come back.

Nathan appears by his side, Carl can hear the little creaking of the soles of his boots against the grainy ground. “I can do it, if you want,” he says. His voice is full, firm and steady.

Carl swallows. “No,” he says, “It’s my responsibility. Lock that fucking gate, instead. Emily, take the kids inside. All of them.”

Emily and Parker start rounding the kids, tearing them off the ground, dragging them away in some cases. The only one who isn’t there is Luna, always true to her role. She’s already inside, tending to baby Zelda. The only child who isn’t crying today.

Carl waits for everyone to be gone, but of course there’s someone who won’t leave. “Montoya,” he says, trying to hold back the tears, “Get inside with the others.”

“No,” Montoya shakes his head and sobs, sliding closer to Gabriel. Carl watches him as he grabs that incredibly small, white hand and squeezes it so hard its bones creak. “He is my friend,” he sobs, “He made me happy. When I went out I always thought I had to stay alive to come back so I could see him smile again. And when the day started with Gabriel smiling you could be sure things would be okay.” He brings Gabriel’s hand to his face and keeps sobbing, ever so desperately, his shoulders shaking, looking for the first time as much a kid as he is, without the tough superstructure Carl built on him. “Now what will keep me alive out there? How will I tell if it’s a good or a bad day, if I can’t see him smile?”

Carl pushes his cowboy hat down on his own face, and bites at his tongue. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He can’t cry. These kids don’t deserve a protector who can’t protect them, and they don’t deserve a protector who cries. They deserve someone who’s able to do what’s needed, when it’s needed.

So Carl swallows the tears and the pain. He allows Montoya to stay. As he puts a bullet through Gabriel’s head.

*

Half the kids are asleep, completely exhausted by the hours they’ve spent crying. Carl is proud of them because they didn’t freak out and leave. They cried all day and didn’t do much more, but they didn’t flee. That’s more than he could’ve expected from kids this age, and he made sure they all knew how proud he was of them all before they dozed off.

He is also proud of Nathan, Parker and Emily. They handled the situation perfectly. Emily and Parker were great with the children, they kept them quiet and calm until it was over and then they made sure they all assisted, if they wanted, to the burial. Nathan dug a hole right outside the gate, in the back. There’s no cross on Gabriel’s final resting place, no tomb, but everyone said something nice about Gabriel, and everyone was able to say goodbye.

Carl would’ve liked to speak with Montoya about what had happened, but the child was completely spent, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He called Ilan, then, and the boy’s sitting in the back of the trailer, in between Emily and Nathan, while Parker stands up next to him.

“Were you there?” Carl asks, looking at the boy. He doesn’t wanna make him feel intimidated or under interrogation, but he wants to make sure Ilan knows Carl wants to _know_ what happened. That he’s interested in it, that he’s not just asking because he must. 

“I was,” Ilan answers. He’s clearly distraught, he’s got red eyes and tears-stained cheeks, but his voice doesn’t falter. “We all were. It was a man. He knew your whistle.”

Carl holds his breath, and like him all the others. Nathan turns to look at him with eyes wide as though he had seen a ghost, and says nothing, but Carl doesn’t need to hear him say it to understand what those eyes mean. “Who was him?”

“I never saw him before,” Ilan shakes his head.

“It wasn’t Negan, was it?”

“No,” Ilan shakes his head again, “I remember his face. It was another man. He had a beard and long brown hair. He said he didn’t wanna hurt us, that we had to let him take the food. He had a car outside, he wanted the food there. We said we didn’t wanna give him anything. We said Negan protected us. He said no one could protect us and that you were a stupid little kid, just like we were, and that you couldn’t save us. So we had to give him the food. Montoya said okay, but Gabriel didn’t wanna. Gabriel put himself between the man and the warehouse. So the man shot him. He got angry while he shot him. He said he didn’t wanna do it, didn’t wanna do it, that we were all stupid kids. And when Gabriel was down he shot him again in the eye. He said that was for you. So you would know you could do nothing to protect us. Then he took the food and left.”

Carl clutches his fingers around the handle of his gun. He knows it’s impossible – he used it much too long ago – but it feels like it’s still hot. He doesn’t know if this is just his mind trying to remind him what he had to do, or if it’s his conscience screaming that someone’s got to pay for that.

“Thank you, Ilan,” he leans in and hugs the kid, “You can go back to the others. Take a nap, if you want. Nathan will stay with you tonight, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” the boy says, shaking his head, “We know you can protect us. We trust you. That man can’t change that.” 

Carl feels his heart swell and, once again, he wants to cry and chooses not to. “Thanks, buddy,” he says, “I’m sorry for what happened. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Ilan nods and heads towards the little group of children who still refuse to sleep. Luna’s among them, she’s overseeing the others playing with baby Zelda. She looks serious, dedicated and absolutely confident what happened this morning was just a wrinkle that, once straightened out, won’t represent itself ever again.

This is the group he created. These are the children he raised. He should be proud – then why does he feel heartbroken?

He lowers his head, taking it between his hands. “Shit…” he whispers.

“Dude,” Nathan attacks immediately, as Carl obviously expected him to do, “We can’t ignore this. The kids may say it wasn’t Negan who came here, but it’s obvious whoever it was was sent by him. Think about it, months and months of perfect peace, no one knew of this place, then you show the man and one week later we have the first death. You can’t--”

“Nate,” Parker stops him, speaking as calmly as ever. Carl closes his eyes and leans against the softness of his soothing voice. He needs that. “Carl knows. No reason to insist.”

“He sent someone else…” Carl says in the lowest, thinnest of voices. “He could’ve taken the community from my hands, he could’ve…” he groans, “Could’ve asked for higher tributes, for the kids to come stay in Sanctuary, but that was not what he wanted. He was bitter that I hid it from him. He wanted to show me that I couldn’t do that, and he sent a random idiot to make sure I knew it. That was a message for me. Gabriel was shot in his eye to send me a message.”

As he lays it out, he sees it happening as though he was witnessing it first hand. And the more he thinks about it, the more plausible it sounds. The more realistic. He trusted that man one time too many, and that costed his life to one of his children. And now it’s all gone. What he found in Sanctuary – what he had with _him_.

Carl takes all the time he needs to let the notion sink in. And takes a mental note to make sure he finds a way to make sure Negan knows that it took less to kill their relationship than it took to kill Gabriel.

“I know how you feel,” Emily sighs, passing a hand through her hair, “But you can’t know that’s what happened for sure. And even if it is – what are you gonna do about it?”

Carl lets his arms fall limp between his parted legs and slowly raises his head. “I’m gonna kill him,” he says. There’s no uncertainty in his eye, no doubts in his words. His life worked its way around making sure there was no room in his soul for second-guessing. That’s how he became a leader. That’s the only way he knows how to live now.

He doesn’t wait for the guys to say anything in response. He doesn’t even wait for them to follow him out. He just stands up, pushing the chair away, and then he up and leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for Gabriel :<


End file.
